


who slowly dies for you

by theleonhearted



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011), Thor (Comics)
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, F/M, Fairy Tales, Norse Myths & Legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleonhearted/pseuds/theleonhearted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In realms apart, they are held as gods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	who slowly dies for you

They were said to be capable of creation.

Sif sheaths her dagger and looks at him. He acknowledges her with a hooded eye, listless.

 _Who?_ The question is silent, but he hears it.

"The wrens of the fields. The whispers of the trees." His shoulder flows in a slender curve, elegant. "You would know them by a different name, I think. Those creatures who color the realm, whose voices wake the sleeping." Reticent.

 _Do you speak of fairies?_ she asks with her eyes, and his smile is wicked.

He extends a hand, a finger over the silver of her armor, a careful gesture. Her own face stares back.

 _I wouldn't have taken you as one for fairytales,_ she simpers, _or legends._

"In worlds apart, we are the subjects of these stories," he replies.

 _Who?_ she asks, once more. He draws his palm across the leather housing her blade, the end of all things. This time, he answers her.

"Deities. Gods. Those who create, who destroy, who sling power in sheaths across their backs. In their hands."

The ribs of her armor are colored by her heart. He's nearly gone before she remembers the question she'd meant to ask.

_Why?_

"For the same reasons they believe." His voice is hushed. For a moment Sif thinks she can taste something in the air, bitter; a taste like lightning, or the metal of the moons, only perhaps not so sweet.

She turns her hand, and that year the flowers bloom more mightily than usual: robust with papery leaves, solid stems plump with the gift of her domain.

The blossom he picks is red, the color of fire, the color of war. It bends slightly between his fingers, yielding. He hides it away as he does all things of value, all treasures too precious to display among unworthy eyes. They'd have her as _his_ , the thunder-warrior's, a pair to smite the wraiths which even now haunt children's dreams; this, Loki knows. 

They were said to be capable of creation.

She never again asks why, in words or in gestures; but he continues to hear her, either way, and answers.

_To forge a more fitting heart._

**Author's Note:**

> I gathered the idea of this story upon reading the Old Norse legends, which vary in detail as time and location shift. Midgardians have their tales of yore, which ebb and flow with succeeding generations across thousands of years; I thought it would be fitting to have Sif, the goddess of harvest in old legend and of war in the Marvel universe, and Loki, the god of mischief, talk of these stories.
> 
> I had Sif be silent in order to further illustrate Loki's abilities; in my mind, he would be capable of understanding her thoughts and even delighting in them. There's certainly suggestions for this in the movie, based on visual cues. 
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed this little drabble!


End file.
